


Heavy Hands of Melancholy

by Arcane_Apparition



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Abby and Rebecca are so similar they don’t know how to TALK, Gen, Grief, Mourning, this deals with Rook
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26870605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcane_Apparition/pseuds/Arcane_Apparition
Summary: She only looks up when she knows she’s close to his gravestone. There’s a figure there with their head bowed and she tenses, freezing mid-step. The realization that she recognizes the figure just makes her shoulders hunch further. “Rebecca?”Her mother jumps a bit. It’s an uncharacteristic sight, seeing something startle her. She spins on her heel to look at her. Eyes and cheeks reddened, she’s quick to try and wipe away the obvious tear tracks. “Abigail?”(Day 6 of ‘31 Days of Wayhaven’! Prompt: Broken)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	Heavy Hands of Melancholy

The road to the cemetery is a well memorized one. Even with the unpaved road, settled outside of town, she could get there with her eyes closed. It’s a heavy-hearted pilgrimage she makes once a year, etched into her heart as much as it is her mind.

When the wrought iron fences are in sight she pulls to the side out of no other reason than habit. Even with the few other cars dotted here and there she’s never seen anybody else here. Shutting the engine off, she takes a breath to steel herself before climbing out.

It’s an overcast afternoon, as if the clouds are respecting the solemn energy hanging in the air. Shoving her hands in her jacket pockets, she stares at her feet as she walks through the gates.

( _103 steps in, 8 rows back_.)

She started this tradition back when she was in high school. When everything felt like too much -too many emotions, thoughts that didn’t make sense. When she hit her loneliest. She drove her shitty little silver hatchback out here on his birthday just...to visit; talk to the air about everything and pretend as if he could hear her.

She had plenty to talk about with him this year, at least.

She’s sure she’s not the only one that pays their respects to her dad’s grave. It’s always clean when she arrives, free of dead branches and leaves. And every year there’s a single lily left in front of the headstone. She’d tried to ask the groundskeepers about it, but they never seemed to catch sight of the person leaving the flower.

Not that she minds, honestly. It makes her happy to think there’s somebody out there taking the time to leave something for him.

She only looks up when she knows she’s close to his gravestone. There’s a figure there with their head bowed and she tenses, freezing mid-step. The realization that she recognizes the figure just makes her shoulders hunch further. “Rebecca?”

Her mother jumps a bit. It’s an uncharacteristic sight, seeing something startle her. She spins on her heel to look at her. Eyes and cheeks reddened, she’s quick to try and wipe away the obvious tear tracks. “Abigail?”

Neither move. Both are tense as if they’d been caught committing some sort of crime. The front of Rebecca’s dress suit was dirtied, leaves clinging to the fabric at the knees. She glances over. The grave has been brushed clean. A new lily resting on the ground.

“You’re the one that leaves the flower?” She blurts out the question with an unintentional amount of shock. The sentimentality behind the gesture seemed foreign for someone like her.

( _Why always a lily?_ A quiet part of her wants to ask)

She nods. She’s still tense, obviously not expecting anybody to intrude on the private moment she’d taken for herself. “Yes. Twice a year. I’m normally here before dawn but…”

“Work?” The word is a little more bitter than she meant for it to be. A little sharper. It’s not fair to be angry anymore, a logical part of her says. Rebecca’s work is hers now too after all. She’d been pulled into her world and shown how truly complicated it was. Being angry at that, at things outside her control, was probably cruel. Hypocritical even.

But that angry, lonely kid buried away in her chest can’t let that bitterness go just yet.

“I wasn’t aware you came out here.” Rebecca says finally. Trying to bridge the silence building between them but not knowing how. Abby shifts from one foot to the other, tugging her jacket closer.

( _Of course you don’t. We don’t know anything about each other_ )

“Since high school.” She shrugs a bit, “I’m usually here as the sun’s going down. No work today though, so.”

“I see.”

Another stiff silence. Neither of them seem sure where to look. Neither wants to look at the other, so Abby settles for eyeing her dad’s headstone. It’s small, especially compared to the others. The marble is thin, allowing years of weathering and damage to crack it in places. She hated the thing. Hated it outside of what it stood for, she just hated the look of the thing.

“I never liked it either.” Rebecca says suddenly, voice softer. Maybe she wasn’t great at keeping a straight face if the annoyance was that clear. “The Agency handled most of the burial details. They asked for my approval, but you never really consider what kind of headstone you want to pick for your loved ones.”

“He deserved a better one than _that_.” She scoffs a little. Rebecca chuckles at that.

“He does. I just never was able to work up the nerve to request a different one.” That catches Abby off guard. Rebecca was the person to demand the attention of an entire room when needed, she wasn’t one to be nervous about anything. The idea of her not going after what she wanted didn’t match with the woman standing across from her.

“He would’ve liked this one anyways. He would’ve said it had more character than the rest.” She continues, a soft smile on her face. Another look Abby can’t remember ever seeing from her.

Just as quickly as it was there, it’s gone. Replaced by the all-too familiar professional look she always wore. She brushes the leaves from her clothes, standing straighter. Emotion being wiped away like it was a sin, something that needed to be buried. “I need to get back, I’ve been out here long enough. Goodbye Abigail.” She walks past with the determination of a soldier.

“Stay!” She calls out suddenly, voice cracking. The vulnerability in her voice is enough to catch even herself off guard. There’s a sudden, stabbing panic at the thought of being alone brewing in her chest, making it hard to breathe. Rebecca stops and looks back, seeming as surprised as she is. “You don’t...you can stay.”

( _Please don’t leave_.)

For one long moment they just stare at one another. Brown eyes that are practically the eyes of a stranger watch hazel ones that belong to a missing piece of their broken little family. Rebecca’s brows pinch together. Pain flashes across her face, that professional mask slipping once more before she looks to the tree line on the other side of the fences.

“I can’t. I won’t interrupt.” There’s weight to her words. As if she wishes she didn’t have to say them, that this conversation could end differently. Comforting and sharing feelings wasn’t how their relationship, it never had been. Neither know how to approach the other. It makes them uncomfortable so they both simply settle on avoiding it entirely. A permanent dance, a cycle neither knows how to break.

She offers her a sad smile that Abby can’t bring herself to return. Her expression evens again, the mask being put back into place. “I’ll see you back at the warehouse.”

Abby watches her walk away. Doesn’t take her eyes off her until she’s left the cemetery entirely, as if quietly hoping she’d turn back around.

She doesn’t. And that doesn’t surprise her.

**Author's Note:**

> The lily is a callback to a snippet Sera posted on her patreon for Rook and Rebecca! Thank you if you took the time to read this!


End file.
